Wanna be our new Kid Brother? NEW VERSION
by The Writing Wizard
Summary: Silently, I began my walk "home." It was an empty lot in the middle of some rundown neighborhood. Nobody would bug me there. At least that's what I thought...
1. Chapter 1

**_Chapter One_**  
>I darted in between the cars parked in the diner's parking lot towards the dumpsters. I glanced around quickly, and, not seeing anyone, shoved my hand in the rusty green dumpster. I felt around for half eaten burgers or fries.<p>

Eventually, after digging through the garbage, many of the things contained unknown, I found a decent piece of burger, complete with both buns and even a piece of lettuce, and a handful of fries. A real find. To top it off I dug out a few napkins. At least my hands and mouth wouldn't have to be dirty. Every other part of my body, though...

"Hey, you! Get out of here!" a man's voice sounded. I whipped around and saw the back door of the small diner open with a man and woman standing outside it. I ducked my head and ran back out of the parking lot.

Silently, I began my walk "home." It was an empty lot in the middle of some rundown neighborhood. Nobody would bug me there. At least that's what I thought...

There was an old truck abandoned there. It was brown with rust and there were probably some mice or some other kind of animal hiding in the bed of it but it was where I stayed. I'd been sleeping there for the past three days, sprawled across the front seat. Usually, in a truck like this one, I'd sleep in the bed, regardless of the nasty creatures that may have roamed there, but it got too cold at night, dropping to the fifties, and, on some nights, it got as low as the forties. I used a few newspapers I found in someone's trash cans as blankets. Sure, it wasn't comfortable, wasn't comfortable in the slightest, but it could be worse. Much worse.

I ran to the truck and carefully climbed inside, hoping no one spotted me. I chewed my burger slowly, trying my best to make it last. I'd done my best to find at least one meal a day but it was hard. I didn't have any money. There wasn't any way I could get any, either. Unless I picked up on how to become a drug dealer or pickpocket and all that illegal crap. Nope. No way. There was no way I could get in trouble with the fuzz. They'd eventually find out who I was or just send me to a boy's home.

I ate half of the fries and put the rest in the napkins. Maybe I'd eat them for dinner tomorrow. I yawned and laid down on the seats, covering myself in the newspapers. It was only around nine, judging by the faint light still shining in the sky, but I hadn't been getting much sleep lately. Believe me, traveling around Oklahoma can be exhausting. I tried shoving the thoughts and memories away from my mind and closed my eyes.

_Thud_.

I slowly opened my eyes, confused. What was that?

_Thud_.

I sat up quickly. Another thud. The car started shaking, along with myself. I looked out the window and saw four dark figures on the side of the car, pushing it back and forth. What the...?

_Thud._

Voices. Deep and dangerous voices flooded my ears from the outside.

"He's in there."

"Let's get him!"

They were boys. Probably here to pick on the little, dirty homeless kid. Aka me. The front door was yanked open. Crap. Rough hands grabbed my shirt and pulled me towards my attackers. I tried pulling away, I really did, but I was weak. Days without much food or sleep did that to a person. They quickly had me out and down on the ground.

"Hey, greaser," a voice taunted. Greaser? What's a...

A punch to the stomach stopped my thoughts. I grunted. The guys took turns between kicking my sides or holding me down. A rain of punches poured down on my face, making my vision go blurry.

"Help! Someone help!" I yelled as loud as I could.

"Blake, shut him up!" A dirty rag was shoved in my mouth. It tasted like oil smelled something awful. The punches kept coming, bruising my body.

"Time for a bath, little greaser," one boy with black hair said.

"Yeah, maybe we can wash that grease out of your hair," another boy said. I didn't even put grease in my hair. Even if I did I couldn't afford it. A lot of the guys I saw around the town, greasers I guess, had their hair greased back. My hair was long and shaggy and it was just oily. I never really had time for a proper bath. I tried my best to wash up when I could but digging in dumpsters for food didn't let you stay clean for long.

Four hands grabbed me and practically dragged me out of the of the lot and down the street to the park around the block. They pulled me towards a small fountain. It didn't take me long to make the connection. They wouldn't. They couldn't. Hands shoving me into the frigid water quickly changed that.

They would.

I fought against the four pairs of hands, towards the surface. I gasped for air when my head poked through, then I was pushed back down. The water was absolutely freezing. My throat was burning. It felt like it was on fire. I never knew drowning would hurt so much. Drowning. Is that how I was gonna die? Behind my closed eyelids all I could see was a grey fuzziness, a sign I was losing consciousness. I had to stay awake. I just had to. After all I had fought against in my miserable life I couldn't just lose my battle by being shoved into a park fountain.

With my last ounce of energy I pushed myself to the top once again. Only to be pushed back down to the bottom by three pairs of hands. Just a few days ago I had washed my hands and face in this very fountain. The clear water had started turning brown after my hands went in. I had spent at least ten minutes scrubbing my fingernails, trying to get rid of all the dirt. I wondered if the water was now red.  
>As my thoughts vanished so did the last of my hope. This was it. I was really gonna die. And how? By being pushed into a park fountain. Now wouldn't that be a story my family would love to pass down. Too bad I didn't have anyone to pass it along for me. I let my body fall limp, waiting for the icy water to freeze over my body forever.<p>

Wait, three pairs of hands? I thought there were four guys...

Suddenly, I was pulled to the surface by two hands. I gagged when I breathed in the cold Tulsa air. The hands dropped me on the ground on the side of the fountain. Ouch. I groaned.

"Sorry, kid." Then he was gone. I kept gasping for breath. I wondered how long I was under. Eventually, I threw up, my vomit burning my throat. It covered the front of my shirt and chin. So much for that burger. I wiped my chin on my sleeve. I was shaking, both from fear and the cold. I needed a place to stay. Somewhere warm, or at least warmer than the ground. I eased myself up, hissing in pain. My side hurt but I needed to get somewhere before I could check my injuries. Hopefully, I was only bruised. There was no way I could afford a trip to the doctor's office and even if I could they'd send me straight to a boy's home. I shuddered at the thought. No thank you.

I limped back to the lot and almost cried when I saw the truck. The windows were busted and the door was barely hanging off the side. There was no way that thing would keep me warm enough. To make things worse, it started to rain at that exact moment, and not just a sprinkle. No, it just had to be a torrential downpour. I shivered. It was really cold, and being soaked and wet probably didn't help much, either. I looked at the houses, probably all warm and cozy inside with nice, soft beds. I coughed. Crap. I coughed. I was getting sick. After a few minutes the cough attack subsided and I could breath easier. I then acknowledged a warm, sticky substance running down my neck. Blood. The houses looked so rundown, yet so inviting. Maybe I could run in quickly and wash up a bit? In and out. Then, I'll go back to the car and make the most of it. In fact, the little white house had all the lights off. Maybe no one was home. In and out.

I made a small sound when climbing the stairs towards the door. My side ached. I carefully approached the door, trying not to make any more noise. I was about to slap myself. They probably locked the door! I don't use my head. At least that's what he always told me. I decided to try it anyway. Maybe life was pitying me and they'd left it unlocked. Apparently, life was pitying me because the door actually was unlocked. I could've jumped up and yelled, "Hallelujah!" if I wasn't about to break into a house and my side wasn't hurting so much. I stepped into the house. It was small and very messy. I quietly walked down the hallway, searching for a bathroom. I opened one door and found myself in a bedroom. It was small but clean and organized. The bed was made. Oh, the bed. It looked so incredibly soft and warm. I was exhausted, it must've been around one now. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to lay down for a few...

XxX

I walked inside the house around two in the morning. Sodapop called me around one thirty, before tonight's curfew. I told him to go to bed because he sounded half asleep. Even since I had gotten a promotion at work and had gotten a huge raise I had learned to loosen up a bit. I changed Soda's curfew from midnight to two on nights he didn't have to work the morning shift at the DX. We had more money than we'd ever had before. Sure, my schedule was changed it a bit, but it was definitely worth it. I don't think we've ever been better off, even when I was housing six boys. My paycheck had been almost tripled and I had enough to pay the bills and even had some extra.

The house was silent. I could wait until later in the morning to start cleaning the house. I was walking towards my bedroom, almost falling asleep standing up. I stripped off my shirt and laid down on the bed in my jeans, pulling the covers over me. Or at least, trying to pull the covers over. Something was holding it down. I sat up and was surprised to see the form of a body underneath the like of blankets. I figured it was Sodapop. Maybe he was drunk...again, and stumbled into my room. Man, if that kid was drunk I was gonna let him have it. I shook the form, thinking of punishments for my kid brother. Grounded for two weeks, no TV, no chocolate cake...that's not Sodapop. What the...?

The kid sat up slowly, groaning while rubbing his eyes. His long reddish-brown hair was matted with either water or sweat. I was guessing a mixture of both, judging by the feverish look in his green eyes. He looked at me for a minute before the fact that I was there got through his sick daze and his eyes widened. He jumped up and bolted through the door before I had a chance to ask him what the hell he was doing in my house. The sound of the front door slamming shut made me bounce up and grab my shirt, quickly pulling it over my head, and run towards the door. I picked up my jacket and followed him out the door, letting it slam behind me. Who cares if Soda woke up? I just wanted to know who the boy was and why he was sleeping in my room.

I ran down the steps of the porch and stood on the cracked sidewalk, looking for any signs of the kid. I didn't see any figure running away; in fact I didn't see anything except for puddles forming at my feet. Where could he have gone? He couldn't have gone far. The lot! I ran towards the empty plot of land down the street. When I arrived I didn't see no kid. In fact, I didn't see anything. I walked around the edges when I heard it. A sneeze. A small little sneeze told me this kid was somewhere here.

"Kid?" A cough. I looked around until my eyes landed on the rusted car. The windows were busted and the side looked about ready to fall off. I carefully walked towards the car, not sure if the boy was dangerous or not. Sure, he looked young, probably no more than fourteen or fifteen, but around here age doesn't matter. We had little elementary kids swearing like Dally. Okay, maybe not that bad, but still, age doesn't matter in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I peeked my head inside the broken window, only to be pushed away when the door was thrown open. The kid stumbled out, clutching his head. He ran a few feet in front of me, then stopped and stared at me.  
>"Kid?" I asked. He just kept looking at me. I bent down a little so I was at his height, and held my hand out. He shook his head, wincing, and took a few steps back. What's the kid's problem?<p>

"Kid?" I asked again. This time he took his hand back and put it in his pocket, trying to look tough. The kid looked exhausted and thin, not really tough at all, he looked scared.

"Hey, kid, it's alright. I won't hurt ya," I said gently. He looked at me weird, like he didn't believe me. I didn't get a chance to try to convince him, though, because his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed. I caught him just before he hit the ground. Man, the kid was light. I scooped him up in my arms, draped my jacket across him, and carefully carried him back to the house. I couldn't just leave some kid unconscious in the lot.

When we got back to the house I went straight to my bedroom. I gently set him down on my bed and took away the coat, replacing it with the blankets. Who was this kid? Why was he sleeping in my room? Why did he run to the lot? I'd just have to wait until morning to get my answers. I made sure he was still sleeping before slipping back out of the room and going to the living room. I laid down on the couch, pulled a blanket up to my chin, and went to sleep.

XxX

When I finally noticed the guy sitting on the bed staring next at me I mentally cursed myself. What happened to in and out? That's all if was supposed to be! In and out! I jumped up, ignoring the flaring pain of my sides, and stumbled out the door. Everything was kinda blurry but I could still see the lot. I quickly made my way back and hid in the front seat of the truck where I had been sleeping only hours ago, before this mess started.

I saw the guy run across the street towards the lot. He sure looked big. And scary.  
>Then I had to sneeze. It came out of no where and I desperately tried to cover it but it was too late. And too loud.<p>

"Kid?" He asked. I peeked through the window again. He didn't look like he was leaving any time soon. I coughed. I really must've been getting sick. Figuring there was no point in hiding anymore, I stumbled out of the car and into the middle of the empty lot. He stared at me.

"Kid?" He asked again. He bent down a little so he was at my height. I admit it made me feel a bit better seeing him at my height and not so much taller than me.

"Kid?" Couldn't he say anything else? I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to act tuff. Honestly, though, I was scared out of my mind.

"Hey, kid, it's alright. I won't hurt ya," he cooed. Yeah, right. Like I hadn't heard that before. Before he had a chance to say anything else though I felt extremely dizzy and uneasy. I felt myself pitch forward, then knew only darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter Two_**

Pain. That was certainly the first thing that registered in my delirious mind when I came to. My entire body ached. I don't think there was any part of me that didn't hurt in any way. My head hurt. My stomach hurt. My legs hurt. My feet hurt. My face hurt. _I_ hurt.

I was in a bedroom. Laying in a bed. A bed? Where was I? How did I get here? I tried thinking about what had happened but came up with nothing. The only thing I knew was that I needed to get out of there. Who knew what kind of danger I was in?

I slowly sat up and groaned when the movement sent a jolt through my side. A few tears gathered in my eyes but I blinked them away, remembering his words.

"_Only cowards cry, boy_."

"Darry?" a voice called from the other side of the door. A knock shortly followed. I quickly shrank back into the blankets, trying to ignore the flaring pain, and covered my face. I heard the door open and stiffened.

"Hey, Darry, you alright?" the voice called again. The bed sunk with someone's weight. I grunted softly as the bouncing mattress jostled my side. The man must've heard me because the covers were pulled back, revealing my bruised face. I saw a teenage boy, probably around sixteen or seventeen, with blonde hair. He stared back at me with wide eyes as I sat up.

"Darry!" I jumped a bit but didn't move. Growing up on the streets I knew the best thing to do would've been to run but I wasn't exactly in the right mind at that moment so I didn't use my head and did something that was probably stupid. I stayed put. I could hear his voice yelling at me.

"_Damn boy don't you ever use your head_?!"

"Darry!" the kid yelled again. I wanted to tell the kid to shut the hell up 'cause his hollering was only making my headache worse but I felt like I could collapse at any given time. The door swung open to admit a giant man. And I mean giant. He didn't have a shirt on so I could see all his muscles. He was certainly intimidating. Scary, even.

"What is it, Soda?" he asked, his face still weary with sleep. Soda? The blonde pointed at me. The man's tired face cleared but quickly changed to one of concern. Oh, great, I thought. Now he's gonna beat me because his son or brother or whoever that kid is here with the dirty homeless kid. Nothing new. Didn't mean I couldn't hate it, though. Still, I stayed there. I must've been real out of it.

"Hey, kid," he said.

"You know him?" Blondie asked.

"Not right now, Soda," he said before turning back to me. "Hey, kid. Now just take it easy," he soothed, as if I was an injured animal. I squeezed my eyes shut as another spasm of pain flowed to my head.

"Soda, get the aspirin," the man ordered, then added, "and the first aid kit." The kid walked out of the room.

"C'mon, kid. Lay back down," the man said. I shook my head. I was a loner. I lived on the streets. We worked alone, unless you got desperate, or, in my opinion, stupid enough to join a gang.

"Kid, it's ok. I won't hurt you." Ha, like I hadn't heard that one before.

The boy came back with a little bottle and a small red box. He handed it to the man.

"Just let me fix you up right now. Then we'll get you home," he said. Home. A place I didn't have yet yearned for. I shook my head again. Blondie shook out a few of the pills and handed them to me. I stared at the little white pills in my hand. Were they drugs? Would they kill me? Would they make me hallucinate?

"They're just aspirin," the boy said, looking at me. I glanced skeptically at him. He sighed and fished one out of the bottle, placed it in his mouth, and swallowed. He looked back at me. Looking back, I don't know why I didn't take off or why I even took the medicine in the first place, but I did. I popped the two pills in my mouth and swallowed them dry.

At that moment I started feeling a bit woozy again. It couldn't have been from the pills, though. Those would need more time to get in my system. I knew I was sick. I just didn't know how much.

"Go to sleep, kid. Then we'll talk," the man soothed. I sank back into the pillows. I don't know why. I just did it, though. I was all jumbled up, not even remembering how I got in the house in the first place. The boy pulled the covers up to my chin, then left, along with the man. I yawned and closed my eyes, feeling a small smile tug at my dry lips. I was sleeping in a bed.

XxX

The kid sure was skinny. And frightened, no matter how tough he tried to act I could tell he was scared. When I walked into my room his eyes went wide. I could see the tears that were gathered in his eyes but he hadn't allowed any to fall. When Soda offered him the pills he shook his head no. He was stubborn, I noticed. Stubborn and stupid.

And terrified.

I knew I couldn't just ask him what he was doing in our house. He was exhausted; his eyes were already drooping when I first started trying to calm him now. So I kept my voice soft and soothing, trying to get the kid to settle down. He wasn't trying to escape, which surprised me, considering his actions the previous night when he first woke up. Instead, he backed up into the corner of the bed. He reminded me vaguely of a cornered animal. An animal being hunted by a predator.

Finally, he took the aspirin after Sodapop convinced him by taking a pill himself. I didn't really like the idea of him taking medicine without a proper reason but I didn't argue when I saw the boy slowly put the pills in his mouth and swallow. It didn't pass me that his hands were trembling and his breathing was panicky while he handled the pills.

I just said, "Go to sleep, kid. Then we'll talk," when I noticed his eyes were sort of glazed over. He obliged, sinking back into the pillows and covering his lanky body with my blanket. He was sick, that much was obvious. I just didn't know how bad it was. I wish I did.

XxX

I felt kinda bad for waking the kid up after Darry finished telling me the story of how he came home to find the boy in his bed, dead to the world. But what was I supposed to do? It's not every day you walk into your big brother's room to find some little teenage kid that you've never seen before.  
>I didn't know what we were gonna do with him. He hadn't uttered a single word since Darry found him. Could he even talk? Was he a mute? We didn't know. How were we supposed to find out where the kid lived? Were his parents looking for him? Did he run away? Was he a criminal? We didn't know the answers to those either.<p>

At that point all I could do was help Darry take care of him. Darry told me the kid was sick, which was kind of obvious. I might be dumb but I am able to tell when a kid is that sick.

So that's what I was doing. I was busy wiping the dampness off the kid's forehead with a wet washcloth. Darry said he had a slight fever. 101, I think. Nothing too serious but we had to keep an eye on it. Darry had run to the drug store to grab something for his fever. The aspirin seemed to be helping with it, though. Sweating meant a fever was breaking, right? Darry had just said something about being back in a half hour and to watch the kid before grabbing his wallet and keys and walking out the door.

The boy mumbled something in his sleep and shifted, yet his eyes remained closed. For some reason, I really wanted to know what color his eyes were. His skin was pale and he was glistening with sweat. Still, he shivered. I stood up and draped another blanket over him before sitting back down. I had dragged Darry's recliner into the room, next to the bed.

He mumbled something else that sounded sorta like, "sorry," but I wasn't sure. I just wiped his neck before laying the cloth back on his forehead. Suddenly, he gasped and his eyes opened.

Green. They were green. And the owner of those eyes had answers. And the face of one who was about to lose his lunch.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter Three_**

I immediately threw the garbage can Darry had placed by the bed in front of the kid. He began to gag and the sound made me wince. It sure sounded painful. Not knowing what else to do, I sat next to him and began rubbing his back. That's what my mom used to do whenever one of us was sick. He stiffened but I didn't know if that was because of me touching him or because of the sudden vomiting. I'm guessing it was both.

He continued to throw up until he started dry heaving. Poor kid. I knew how awful dry heaving was. I kept tracing my hand over his back. When I was sure he was done emptying his stomach I removed the trash can and put it back on the floor. The kid slumped back into the pillows. He was obviously exhausted. It made me wonder when the last time he had gotten a decent night of sleep. Going by the bags under his eyes I guessed it had been too long.

I covered his frail body with the blanket. He was shaking. From cold or fear, I didn't know. Once again, it was probably a little of both. Who knows if he actually remembered where he was or if how he even got here? I know I would've been scared to death if I woke up in a random person's bed. Unless it was Sandy's bed…but the only people the kid had seen was two guys. So that's a little different.

"Just rest, kid. Then, we'll work everything out. 'K?" He nodded some. It wasn't until he fell back asleep did I notice the dried blood on the pillow. Which is why I was extremely relieved when I heard the front door open and quietly close. I knew it was Darry. Two-Bit was sleeping off a hangover, Dally was in jail, and Steve was working a shift at the DX. It could've been Johnny, too. Johnny and Darry were the only ones who didn't slam the door.

But when Darry came in the room I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"He ok?" He asked.

"Just fell back asleep. He was puking," I answered, gesturing towards the garbage can. Darry's eyebrows furrowed in concern and he came closer to the bed. He placed a hand on the kid's forehead and sighed.

"Fever?" I guessed.

"Yeah." I grabbed the thermometer from the nightstand. "Grab the th-," I cut him off by shoving it in his hand. He nodded his head in response.

"Hey, Dar. We might have a small problem," I started, remembering the blood.

"What now, Soda?" I pointed to the dry patch of blood on his pillow.

"Do we wake him up?" I asked.

"Yeah, we better." He reached over and gently shook the kid's shoulder. Neither of us expected his reaction.

XxX

I shot straight up, prepared to be face to face with him. But, instead I was met with two guys. I then remembered puking. I didn't think it had been that long ago. Twenty minutes at the most. But the guy was touching me. He was still touching me!

_"You deserve this, boy!"_

I jumped out of the bed, my vision going blurry for a moment before it cleared. I was sweating something fierce, yet I was cold. Really cold. I wanted to curl up in a ball and wrap up in the blankets at my feet but I knew I couldn't do that. I had to get out of there.

"_This is_ w_hat you get for disobeying me_!"

Both guys had weird expressions on their faces but I ignored them and ran out of the room. I found the front door and ripped it open and almost ran into a guy with jet black hair and a blue shirt. He looked alarmed at seeing me running out of the house but I just ran around him and kept going. I blocked the callings of "Kid!" out of my head and kept my pace. Running was something I loved. Probably the only thing I had left in this world to love. It kept me alive. It honestly did. If I hadn't been able to run away from certain situations I might not have been here today.

_"You'll never get anywhere in_ _life! You're just like your mother_!"

I kept running, chanting "I can do it. I can do it. Keep going. Get away from them," in my head over and over again. It helped me focus on my steps and not on how cold I was.

"_Never disobey me, boy, or else I'll show you how rough I can really_ _be_."

I don't know how far I ran before I started feeling really dizzy again. I think it was only a few blocks. But all I know was that I stopped for a minute and placed my hands on my knees to take a breather, which was weird because I could usually go way farther than this without breaking a sweat, but there I was, freezing yet sweating buckets. Then, even if I didn't remember the first time at that point, I felt myself pitch forward into darkness for the second time.

XxX

The first thing that came to mind when the kid ran into me was, "What the hell?" but it quickly changed to, "Who the hell is that?" and then back to "What the hell?" when he kept running. Darry and Soda came running to the door.

"Kid!" Soda called. I turned to him.

"What the hell?"

"I'll explain later. Let's go get him!" he told me. Darry was already going to his truck so I jumped in the bed. I didn't know what I was getting into but you never really do with Sodapop Curtis. You kinda just go with it, which is what I was doing at that point.

I knew it was serious when Darry gunned the engine, going at least fifteen miles over the speed limit, which I knew was rare for him. He had always been extra careful on the roads ever since Mr. and Mrs. Curtis's death. We kept driving down the road until I finally caught on to what we were doing. Apparently, we were chasing the little bugger who ran into me. I caught a glimpse of his small form running. He was fast, I'll give you that, but no one can outrun a truck going almost sixty miles per hour.

We were getting close but I don't think the kid noticed us. Finally, he stopped and bent over with his hands on his knees, panting for breath like a sick dog. Honestly, though, he did look really sick. But when he fell forward and landed on the grass Soda yelled "Get him!" so I didn't even hesitate. I jumped out of the still moving (but slowed down) truck and bolted towards the kid. Soda and Darry weren't that far behind, either.

XxX

Steve ran towards the kid and I was hot on his heels. Questions were churning through my mind. Who the hell was this kid? Where did he live? What happened to him? I pushed them back into my mind and focused on the limp figure in the grass. Steve was already kneeling next to him and I quickly followed.  
>I picked up his head and laid it in my lap. Darry came, too, after parking the truck. He gently placed two fingers on the kid's neck, checking his pulse.<p>

"It's a little fast but it's there," he told me. I breathed a sigh of relief. He was alive. Darry carefully scooped him up in his arms and we walked towards the truck. I was still amazed at how much Darry had changed. There was a time when he was just my big brother. The big brother that played football with me or wrestled on the living room before our mother told us to "quit rough housing" while our dad only said, "boys will be boys." Then Darry became the parent. The one who struggled with bills and juggled two jobs even when I had my part time job at the DX with Steve. That Darry was always too rough without meaning to be. But, slowly, Darry was coming back. He laughed more and yelled less. It felt good to have part of my big brother back.

Steve and I sat in the backseat of the truck and Darry passed the kid back to me. We laid him across our knees, much to Steve's annoyance. He was still pestering me about who the hell the kid was. In fact it had been at least a minute since he'd last asked. So…..

"Soda?" Here it comes…

"Yeah?"

"Who the hell is he?" And I chuckled. Like I knew the answer to that. But, there was one thing I knew. I was gonna find out.


End file.
